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yall-hate-kids-tourney · 2 months

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Round 4: Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls) vs. Amane Momose (MILGRAM)

Propaganda below the cut

Mabel Pines (12):

I literally saw a tiktok today about how Mabel is a bad person. She’s 12! Like yes, she has made some mistakes and bad choices, but so has everyone else. And I never see any of the other characters in the show criticized the way she is. Everyone in the show has made mistakes (Grunkle Stan commits crimes practically every episode ffs) but because Mabel is a 12 year old girl and acts like it, she gets the most hate. Mabel deserves to be loved 🩷

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girl gets so much flack for being... immature and kind of selfish at age 12? like she had whole video essays made on why she is a horrible person who deserves punishment. god forbid girls be silly

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!!! Spoilers for Gravity Falls last 5 episodes !!!

This has gone down a lot but when the Weirdmaggedon arc was happening, the finale of the series, a big part of the fandom started hating Mabel because she accidentally caused the Weirdmaggedon (basically an apocalypse + bizarre shit like the water tower becoming an eight-legged monster with a giant mouth).

For context, in the episode that starts this arc, "Dipper and Mabel vs The Future", Mabel is really excited to the end of their summer vacation at Grunkle Stan's house, since it will be her and Dipper's 13th birthday and they will enter high school (her idea of high school of course coming from teen movies). But then this whole idea starts to shatter when Wendy tells her that high school isn't like a Disney musical, but it's okay, she will get through this since she will be with Dipper, her twin brother...

Except, that Dipper receives an invitation by Grunkle Stan's scientist brother Ford to become his apprentice after summer ends, staying in Gravity Falls, without Mabel. When she discovers it, she gets really mad at him and in a fit of rage, she accidentally picks Dipper's bag instead of hers and runs off to the woods.

When she gets there, Blendin, a time-travelling friend of theirs finds her and tells her that he has a way of making her brother stay with her, and make the summer take a little more to end, and that he just needed a little thing that Dipper has in his bag. That thing is a dimensional rift that Dipper and Ford contained to not cause the Weirdmaggedon, but Mabel didn't knew about that and gives it to Blendin. Blendin then breaks it and it's revealed that Bill Cipher was controlling Blendin to get the rift and release the Weirdmaggedon. He then traps Mabel in a bubble, starting the final arc of the series.

So, a few episodes later, that bubble she's in is revealed to be a world of fantasy that she controls, and that she didn't want to leave that world, as she was scared of growing up etc.

Context given, A LOT OF PEOPLE HATED HER FOR THIS. Suddenly people started seeing Mabel as just a selfish girl who wanted things only her way, when she was only a 12-year-old scared of growing up without her twin brother (they do end up going back together at the end but still).

The worst part is that apparently the people behind it took note of this, and on the comics that where released after the finale, she is a selfish spoiled brat. I haven't read the comics though so I'm going off what some people said about it.

Amane Momose (12):

Amane was voted guilty in the first trial so that she would acknowledge her guilt. It backfired, and now she’s considered a threat. Well, everyone is a threat, but nobody’s threat level has been as heavily discussed and debated as hers. Consider the next prisoner in line, Mikoto. He’s objectively more dangerous and cannot be restrained. He beat up the guard in trial 1, and he was able to hold his own when the other guilty prisoners were attacked. But a good incentive to forgive him is so that he will calm down. You know what? That’s a good incentive to forgive Amane too! But she *can* be restrained, so a good portion of the discussion went into how she should be voted guilty so she *will* be restrained and not a threat. Since her vote was a near 50/50, of course a good chunk of the voters expressed dissatisfaction with her forgiven verdict. Some are already planning to vote her guilty for trial 3, calling her a “lost cause”. She hasn’t even done any concrete harm yet. Hold the pitchforks until she actually causes harm, please? And what if she *was* voted guilty in trial 2? We’ve been warned that she will continue to deny our judgement. A second guilty verdict won’t make her better either, and then what? She’d be called a “lost cause” as well. There is no winning with her.

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Where do I even start? So first of all she’s an cult child who was physically and mentally abused and tortured by her parents and then (presumably) murdered her mother after her mother killed a cat that she took care of.

Now everyone in Milgram is a murderer but when Amane came and her MV showed her murder and circumstance in an admittedly highly fictionalized depiction of it the audience decided to…repeat the cycle of abuse!

She was voted guilty for the main reason of “teaching her” and helping her “realize that she was abused.” I would like to note that this tough love approach is something her parents utilized against her. “We are only doing this to help you.”

So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.

And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.

Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.

Yet for some reason it feels like people treat Amane as a “delusional creepy kid who wants to kill people” which completly takes away the nuance of her character. She does have the capacity to harm! Everyone here does! She’s not Uniquly Dangerous! She just has a Reason to be Dangerous. A Reason we GAVE HER by REPEATING THE CYCLE OF ABUSE.

In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.

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TL;DR: "We metavoted this abused, indoctrinated child guilty in trial 1, but it didn't work. Now she is a threat to three grown adults: one who is fully free and two whom she has been shown to get along with. Please metavote her guilty again so she will be restrained and unable to attack them, even though that means subjecting her to further psychological torture." Amane Momose is the youngest of ten murderers, prisoners of Milgram who are to be judged innocent (forgiven) or guilty (unforgiven). In the first interrogation (voice drama), she said that what she did was in line with her religion's doctrines. If we judged her the "wrong way", she said she will just deny the verdict. Combining the voice drama and music video, you could piece together that she was raised in a cult and abused, even though she is cheerful and downplays her pain. She never shows *who* she killed, only *why* she did. After the first day of her vote, she was 81% innocent, but this wouldn't last the whole three months. Many people voted her guilty so she would "see her sins", part of the practice commonly known as "metavoting". Her innocent percentage rapidly decreased, and she hit guilty in the last 15 days, finishing at 51% guilty. At the end of the first trial, Jackalope (who is something like a host) went over all the prisoners' verdicts and commented on the general reasoning. When he got to Amane, he *laughed* at the audience for voting that way to make her realize her sins. Trial 2 rolled around, and it was revealed that Amane's victim was her abuser. On day one, she was at 74% innocent. Seems like a cut-and-dry case now, right? Well... in the intermission, two of the prisoners (Fuuta and Mahiru) were badly beaten up and became reliant on the care of Shidou, a doctor. Amane became hostile to Shidou because what he was doing was against her beliefs. She visited all three of them on their birthdays to convince them to change their ways. She seems to be especially close to Fuuta, who is now murmuring about salvation. Guilty prisoners are psychologically tortured, forced to listen to voices that reject their beliefs. Fuuta and Mahiru both say that the mental strain is worse than their physical injuries. But Amane, who also looks worse for wear, was thrown under the bus because she isn't injured and is considered a physical threat to them (never mind that she gets along with them). She's considered a threat to Shidou, a grown man who is twice her size and fully free, while she is partially restricted by the long sleeves in her trial 2 uniform. She might indoctrinate Fuuta even though, in a prison of ten people and one guard, she's the only voice of her cult. Fortunately, she got a break. Her vote was falling at a similar rate to the first trial. But this time, it stabilized at 51% innocent, 12 days before the end of her vote. But there's no way this is over.

#yall hate kids tourney #round 4 #gravity falls #mabel pines #milgram #milgram project #amane momose #momose amane #cw child abuse #cw cults #cw torture #cw psychological torture #cw animal death

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mindscapic-exposure · 8 months

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Post Concerning a Worrying Trend I've Seen

With the start of Amane's trial I think now is good time to voice my concerns about something that is not exclusively about her but is nonetheless very relevant in current events (and I'm probably going to be pointing at her trial most since it's the most clear sign of this). But something I've noticed this trial, something I'd expected but am nonetheless sad to see, is the heavier sway of people towards Guilty or general harsher methods compared to the last trial. A brief pause before a continue to reassure people that I am still aware of the difference between fiction and reality, so no, I am not saying that I think people who would punish people in the project would do the same thing in this reality if confronted with it. I'm aware that having the distance of acting behind a screen, seeing these characters through song and art is different than people reacting to the people they see every day. Just so that's out of the way. But I do also think the difference might be part of the point in a different way, how this extreme environment, voting on prisoners as a warden, in itself is likely to influence people into doing things they wouldn't normally do. It's been talked about how this may (and is) influencing Es, and judging based on some fans' comments, I think those participating in voting are not exempt from the process as they act through Es' role. Let's go back to Amane, since as I said before, she seems like the most obvious example of this. During the first trial a lot of people who were voting her Guilty were claiming that they ultimately were going to forgive her, that it would be "just for this trial", but that she "needed to learn her lesson". I didn't agree with the rationale even at the time, because I'd already seen from experience why that logic doesn't work. And come trial 2 it didn't, it went badly (albeit not in the way I expected). But that was the rationale people had at the time. And now, come trial 2 a lot of people are suddenly feeling reason to vote her Guilty again. Even after being shown what Guilty means, even after a lot of people being aware that it essentially constitutes to (at least) psychological torture. I've even heard some people who thought she shouldn't have been voted Guilty the first trial rationalizing voting her that way this trial, thinking they "have to", or it'll be "worse" otherwise. And isn't that strange? Like I said, I don't think people who voting harshly would necessarily treat a child that way in person. I'm aware that most people are voting Amane Guilty would probably say "I'd never hurt a child" and "I'd never psychologically torture a child". And they'd mean it. Which is why I think it's important to remind people about the name of this project. Milgram. Named for The Milgram Experiment. A psychological experiment where participants were asked to "punish" someone for making mistakes. I won't draw this out by explaining all the details, as I'm aware that most of you already know about it, and I won't talk down to you like that. But the participants weren't particularly malevolent people going in, they were normal people. Just like here. I imagine many of them, if asked beforehand, would probably say "I'd never kill a person". Just how many of those same people went on to administer what they thought would be a fatal shock anyway? This is a fictional project, yes, but these votes don't exist in a vacuum, and the environment is part of the process. So if you vote, try to think about how you too, are also being influenced.

#milgram #milgram project #ミルグラム #analysis #long post #cw psychological torture

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goat-boy-sounds · 9 months

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just another job

I wrote this all the way back in december... for some reason, I thought it was unfinished. whatever. here it is-- my angsty pre-show markpetey fic in all it's glory:

Mark’s laugh was obnoxious. Maybe that wasn’t the word. It was grating, like he didn’t actually believe anything he said was funny. But Mark kept making jokes, clearly a defense mechanism for being scared out of his mind. Mark was halfway through another crack about what a person could do with Dylan’s fingertraps when--

“Hey Mark?” Petey looked down on him from the other side of the desk divider.

Mark opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came. His eyes were wet. His breathing was shaky. Mark knew, and Mark knew that Petey knew.

“Yeah?” Mark’s voice cracked.

“What’s up with your hands?”

Dylan and Irving had been dead silent ever since Mark sat down. Only silently clicking at the keyboards every once in a while, but even that was just a pretense. They were both glancing at Petey, wide eyed.

Mark knew his presence made the rest of MDR uncomfortable. He always knew.

Mark almost tried that obnoxious laugh again, and he did, but tears were coming along with it. There he was, smiling like an idiot with the tears pooling at the end of his nose.

Every single one of Mark’s knuckles were bright red. A couple left drops of blood on the desk as he lifted his shaking hands, tucking them into his elbows. Suddenly, Mark’s face went very serious. He looked away from Petey.

Petey resisted the urge to sigh. Of course Mark would do this to himself on his first trip to the break room. The guy who spent his first day screaming for help at the stairwell door for ten minutes straight. He would’ve been annoyed at Mark for making the last ten days a living hell for him if it weren’t for the fact that he was wiping snot with his suit sleeve. Petey had never seen Mark cry before. He’d only known him for ten days though.

Petey opened his mouth but Mark cut him off.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” Mark stood, still bent over and wiping his nose, and then he shuffled off to the bathroom.

*thud*

“What’d they do to him?” Dylan leaned forward and whispered as soon as the bathroom door closed.

Petey finally let out the sigh he’d been holding. He smothered his face with his hands. “I don’t know,”

“He was in there for a while, man. They never did anything like that to me,” Dylan always talked like there was some sort of conspiracy behind everything.

“Five hours,” Irving said smartly.

“What?” Petey raised his eyebrows.

“He was in there for five hours. I counted,” Irving re-adjusted himself in his chair.

“Must’ve done something pretty screwed,” Dylan said.

“I’m gonna go-- I’m gonna go check on him. Just keep working.”

Dylan gave Irving a knowing look that Petey caught as he walked away. Of course, Dylan would do that. Dylan had done almost the exact same thing four quarters ago.

Irving went back to scrolling through data.

Petey took a breath outside the bathroom door. He could hear Mark grabbing an obscene amount of paper towels from the dispenser. He knocked a couple of times.

“Hey Mark?”

The sound of the paper towel dispenser ceased. No answer.

“Mark, I’m coming in. I need to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Still no answer.

“You know how pissed Graner’d be if he knew you were hurting yourself?”

“I’M FINE.”

Petey wasn't actually sure if Mark was hurting himself, but it was probable. It was likely. Fourth day, Petey had found Mark sitting on the toilet, trying to scratch marks into his stomach with an unfolded paper clip. Not messages, just marks. White lines. Anything to catch his outie’s attention. Petey’s throat tightened.

“Mark, I’m coming in!”

There was no protest as Petey walked through the door.

Mark was simply hunched over one of the sinks, clutching a few sopping wet paper towels. The rest were scattered along the counter. Mark’s clenched knuckles were bleeding. A few stripes of blood curved down the ceramic sides of the sink into the drain. Mark’s hands triggered the motion sensor on the faucet, and then they were gone.

Petey approached like one would walk up to a barking dog. His leather work shoes felt all too loud on the tile. Mark refused to look at him as he wrapped his hands in the rough towels, rubbing until the bleeding got worse. More red spots on the sink. Mark stopped. He stood up straight and rested his wrists on the sink’s edge, observing his work, exercising his fingers.

“Was that all you?”

Mark shook his head.

“So they just…”

“I don’t know,” Mark sighed, “I couldn’t keep them on the table.” Saying that made Mark’s nose twitch.

Petey’s mouth was slightly open as he stared at Mark. There wasn’t anything Petey could say to that, was there? Nothing Mark wouldn’t have the right to hate him for. It was his job to convince Mark he should be happy here, and they beat him up. They hit him with a ruler like he was in grade school. Who knows what else they did to him behind closed doors? Mark wasn’t going to fess up.

Petey turned his back to the mirror. He could just barely see Mark’s shoulder in his periphery. The stall doors were wide open. “I know this is hard. It’s hard for everyone when they start out, y’know?” Petey began, “But I think you should know that there is a life to be had here,” It was so pathetic. Seemed like something straight out of the manual. “You’re going to survive this. I mean, I did, and I turned out fine.”

Mark laughed in spite of himself.

“Look at you! You look like-- well I don’t know what you look like-- but you look like the toughest guy in the office. Your outie’s gonna think, ‘Wow. I must’ve gotten into a cage fight,’ and obviously you won.”

Mark’s face fell again at the mention of his outie. Denied curiosity is almost just as an effective form of torture. Petey learned that around his second month, and it was still there, scratching like a twitching insect leg at the base of his skull, but eventually his brain learned to tune it out. It was the equivalent of white noise down there on the severed floor. It was better not to mention it-- not to think about it-- until of course, they forced you to. Sitting in the wellness sessions. Unable to say a word for fear that the momentary absence of the itch will stop, only to be so much louder when it comes back again. Mark hadn’t had a wellness session yet. Not that Petey knew of, and that scared him. It was going to come sooner or later. Just give him another month.

��How old are you again?” Petey asked, his voice quiet and low.

Mark’s face screwed up, “Milchick said I was forty-three--”

“Maybe, but you also only have ten days of experience under your belt, and you’re scared. I was scared too.”

Mark took a breath.

“You’re gonna get good at this. Trust me. It’s just another job,” Petey tried for a slight smile.

Mark nodded while sniffing, like he wanted to believe that.

“Can I help you clean up?”

“I-- I--” Mark stumbled over his words, “--Sure.”

Mark started hurriedly grabbing the paper towels. All dejection in his body replaced with pumping anxiety. His hands were still bleeding, leaving red spots, making everything worse as they shakily scrambled to get rid of the evidence--

“Hey, hold it,” Petey grabbed Mark’s hand, “ Have you washed your hands yet?”

“No,” Mark’s voice was small.

“Let’s start with that.”

Petey turned on the faucet and put his hand over the button on the soap dispenser.

After a moment of waiting, Mark screwed his face up even further. “This isn’t normal. None of this real. None of this normal,” he ran his free hand through his hair.

“Mark--”

“Stop--”

“Mark.”

“STOP!” Mark screamed, wrenching his hand out of Petey’s, “STOP SAYING THINGS!” and both Mark and Petey knew that the rest of MDR had just heard. They looked to the door. Mark was back to crying silently. Frozen. The faucet was still running.

Petey’s mouth was slightly open again. In his one year on the severed floor, that might have been one of the loudest things he’d ever heard, other than his own voice in that first month… and Mark screaming ten days ago. Mark was staring at him. Begging him to tell him that this place wasn’t real.

But Petey didn’t say anything, he just grabbed Mark’s hand, prying it from the grip on his shoulder, and ran it under the faucet. He watched the blood run until the skin was still red but clear. He got some soap and lathered it over Mark’s knuckles. Mark was tough enough not to flinch at that. And he took Mark’s other hand.

Mark’s face went blank, like it had hit an error window, unable to process anymore of the state it was in.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

Mark’s hand went limp. Petey’s first instinct was to fill the silence.

“We should talk about this over lunch sometime. I’m sure there’s some great places to eat around here,” absolute nonsense, but it was the first thing that came to Petey’s mind. He wondered if that was something his outie would say in a moment like this, “You know, I’ve always wanted to try Thai food.”

Mark raised his eyebrows, like he was about to laugh, and then let the instinct go. What he was left with was a confused grimace… Mark had the funniest facial expressions. Even when he was happy, he had a habit of looking pained, like his body didn’t know how to translate the emotions out of sheer inexperience. When he was sad, it looked like his face was fighting it, and he’d just end up looking like he’d swallowed something awful.

Petey patted Mark on the back, “Let’s say we get back out there. Find some scary numbers,” He tried for another smile. Half-hearted and unintentionally wimpy.

“I just need a second,” Mark’s voice was quiet. He was staring at the floor.

Petey nodded.

“I need a second,” Mark said it again with surety, like he didn’t think Petey had heard it the first time. His gaze moved up to the wall.

Petey leaned against the counter, folding his arms, trying not to look at Mark too directly. Mark was processing something big. Petey didn’t know what exactly. Maybe it was just the past ten days flooding through Mark’s brain again. That’d be enough to paralyze anyone. Or maybe Mark was taking solace in the moment of stillness. Petey closed his eyes. He never really got to close his eyes on the severed floor. Listen to the air conditioning. The faint sounds of the pipes in the walls. His outie must do this. Must take it for granted. Mark would never get to know this feeling regularly. Mark would never again know the feeling of letting his brain rest. This was such a small mercy. If Petey were him, he would stay rooted to that spot for the rest of his life. Not that there was much of a difference between him and Mark now. If there ever was a difference in the first place.

“I need a second,” Mark repeated.

Petey nodded. Again.

But in the back of Petey’s head was a growing buzzing. A warning that they needed to get out of the bathroom and do it fast. They needed to get back to work. The numbers were waiting. Dylan and Irving would have questions. If their productivity was down for the day, then Cobel would notice. Milchick would notice. Maybe Milchick had walked into MDR right now, and was about to find them standing around in the bathroom with Mark’s bloody knuckles. Bloody knuckles that Milchick probably gave him, and then Mark would get sent back to the break room to get hurt even more. No, Mark wouldn’t get sent back to the break room just for an extended bathroom break, but regardless… Mark’s mind was fragile enough already.

“We should get back out there,” and Petey hated saying that.

Mark nodded and looked down at his hands, trying to find an inconspicuous position to hold them so the red wasn’t quite as obvious. He settled for simply leaving them at his sides.

Mark marched back into MDR like a soldier about to jump out of a plane.

Petey always had an appreciation for the green carpet in MDR, and he watched Mark’s shoes tread across it to his desk. When they sat, Petey was sure to keep their desk divider down, just in case. It was almost calming, being able to watch Mark’s serious face instead of completely tunneling his vision into a dark number grid, only occasionally seeing his own reflection. He could settle into this as a routine.

Dylan and Irvng were, gratefully, quiet when Mark and Petey returned. Mark had a sense of new found composure-- doubtless due to him resolving to hatch another escape plan-- that was the cycle every newbie found themselves in for the first month. How many tries it would take before they would give up was the variable. It was enough to drive Petey insane. Knowing that he would have to watch Mark spiral down and break under his supervision. He didn’t know whether his terror was for himself for having to witness it or for Mark. It was probably a bit of both.

#cw self harm #cw blood #cw implied torture #cw psychological torture #my writing #severance #mark scout #peter kilmer #markpetey #severance apple tv plus

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ladysqueakinpip · 2 months

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Medieval torture methods, you say?

there are some really bizarre ones (under a read more for obvious uh. you know. graphic descriptions/imagery/blood/torture etc. this is truly not for the faint of heart)

i just found this youtube vid where some guy walks though basically the entire medieval torture museum in chicago. again. warning for graphic content as if the thumbnail image isn't clear enough on that.

youtube

all sorts of devices and machines in this video. i like that this museum shows the rat basket torture method (timestamp 15:50). it's something i saw in another youtube vid a long time ago and had never heard of before, and i found it particularly disturbing, but i havent seen another mention of it since (until now).

the blood eagle and the brazen bull are two other methods i find SUPER scary. none of the videos i glanced through today doubted the legitimacy of the brazen bull, but ive seen other sources that say it is only a legend and there's no historical record of it ever actually being built.

on a side note one of my fun/disturbing torture facts gives more background on the bible! ive actually had to explain this to my dad and multiple other people.

In esther 5:14, haman builds a pole 75ft tall to impale mordecai (in other translations ive seen 75ft gallows but we will focus on the pole this time around). a lot of people ask: isn't that height excessive?

it is! that's the point. impalement poles were conical in shape. the tip came to a sharp point, and the base was however large it needed to be to accommodate the height of the pole and the slope of the point. when a person was thrown onto it, they usually didn't die immediately. it was a slow, painful death. part of the pain was from gravity pulling the body further down on the pole. the further down your body was pulled, the more excruciating the death was, since the pole became thicker and tore you open more and more.

#and this was everyones squeaky-sponsored horror halloween special #for the middle of February i guess.#cw blood #cw torture #tldr people in the dark ages needed serious psychological help

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warpedlegacywrites · 3 months

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happy dadwc friday Duchess! How about a prompt for Cullen coping with addiction/recovery 🥺😭💖

❝ All the things that I ran from I now bring as close to me as I can. ❞

happy writing :3

Happy @dadrunkwriting! Thanks for this prompt. Here is some slightly circular narration about Cullen's withdrawal, with a focus on his early nightmares post-lyrium.

CW for torture, sleep deprivation, claustrophobia, psychological torture

Sleep isn’t a problem at first. In fact, for the first week or so, he barely notices a difference. His dreams remain blurred, unfocused. Filtered by the last filter he’d taken in Kirkwall. His last one ever, so he keeps reminding himself, though practiced hands still reach for the vial at his bedside when he wakes blearily with the dawn. Muscle memory. Habit. Conditioning. Sleep isn’t a problem, even after the symptoms start setting in. When his reaching hands shake so hard they can barely grip the glass of water. The water he gulps greedily down, while wishing it were gleaming blue instead of clear. The water he can’t seem to keep down, retching it back up moments later. No, even when his insides are on fire and his whole body is racked with the searing pain, sleep isn’t a problem. It’s not until the worst of the pains and the cravings subside, when the Song is little more than a half-remembered tune in the back of his skull, and his body can actually, truly rest. That is when sleep becomes a daunting, dreadful torture.

Every night, when he lays his head down, he knows what’s coming. He’ll try to stay awake as long as possible, reflexively wincing away from the pain. But inevitably, his eyes will close, and he will open them again in the blood-stained halls of Kinloch Hold. Torchlight flickers over bodies, too many to count.

The light is tinted by the magically manifested curtain of his cell. A slender column holding him captive. Too narrow to do anything but kneel or stand – he can’t even properly sit, let alone lie down. No matter how many hours, days, nights pass, no matter how his feet and legs and back ache. He remains standing until he can bear it no longer, and then he kneels in prayer. His knees are bruised and bleeding. He’s exhausted. More tired than he’s ever been. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he understands he’s still asleep, but the fatigue is just as he remembers it. He doesn’t recall how he ever managed to sleep, if he ever did.

His cell is round, affording him a panorama view of the carnage. Every so often, a new body will race through in an attempt to reach the stairs to Cullen’s right. They’re always cut down before they clear the first handful of steps. Every time, Cullen tries to warn them. Every time, his voice doesn’t penetrate the perimeter of his cell. He hears its echo bounce back and forth over his head, driving him mad with his own voice. Every time, the demon emerges from the shadows it hides in. Razor claws rake across torsos, drawing forth gushing red. The room is infused with the smell of blood. Fresh and stale, the stone is saturated with it. Eventually, Cullen stops smelling it. But as tortured with guilt as he is over his failure to save even a single soul, watching them die is still the lesser evil.

Because when the demon is bored waiting for new victims, it amuses itself with Cullen. It knew his desires almost the instant it captured him. All his training was for naught – Desire is a powerful demon, and it read him like an open book. It cackled, mocking his boyish infatuation. It delighted in taking her form and parading around in front of him in her skin. Calling to him in her voice, whispering in his ear, while standing well out of reach. Sometimes wanting, willing. Others, screaming in pain. Spitting vitriolic hatred at him. But always beyond his reach.

He can beat his hands against the curtain of magic until they bleed, scream until his voice is raw and his throat is like cracked glass. But he will never break through it.

Until he wakes, covered in sweat and hands aching from gripping the sheets so tightly, his throat sore. Surely, he must be screaming on this side of the Veil as well, but if anyone has ever heard it, they keep it to themselves. He will wash his face with cold, clean water, drink from the canteen he keeps full at his bedside, and dress for his day.

And the next night, it will start all over again. He will try to stay awake, and then he will fail. He will try to warn his would-be rescuers, and fail. Try to escape, and fail. No matter how he tries to outrun his failures, they follow him, relentless and tireless.

Until one night, when he looks down at the blood-soaked bodies at his feet… and there is no cell to separate them. He reaches a hand out, tentatively, and meets no resistance. He steps forward, and is not repelled back. A sob escapes him before he can stop it, though he clamps his hand over his mouth to prevent more sounds from betraying him. Yet no demon appears. It’s only him, and the corpses of his colleagues.

He turns to the exit, and he’s halfway across the room before his steps slow. Stop. He turns. His eyes travel up the staircase, stopping at the door at their peak. There’s no way out of that room, he knows. He’s conducted Harrowings and Rites of Tranquility from inside that room. There is no escape but the way you’ve come.

There is no escape.

Step by step, his feet carry him to the base of the stairs. He watches himself climb them, as if observing from the outside. He screams at himself, pounding against the rounded wall of his cell, tries to tell him no. Turn around, run away. Escape. But it’s no use.

He watches the demon emerge from the shadows, claws impossibly long and razor sharp. No matter how he screams and pounds and begs. There is nothing he can do to stop what’s about to come. Cullen watches his hand come to rest on the doorknob. Watches it turn. Watches the demon’s arm raise, and strike. He feels the burn of its claws in his flesh.

And then he wakes up.

He flexes his fingers, releases their death grip on the sheets. Rises with a struggle from the low cot given to him when he’d arrived at the base of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Drinks long and greedy from the canteen. Splashes his face with cold water. And pushes aside the flaps of his tent to start another day.

Tonight, he’ll do it all again.

#dadwc prompts #dadwc #cullen rutherford #ptsd #lyrium withdrawal #nightmares #cw #torture #sleep deprivation #claustrophobia #blood #psychological torture #whump #hozier prompts #my writing #long post

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3ntity56 · 3 months

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I'm... disgusted. Honestly. Up until now, I thought psychiatric hospitals weren't nearly as scary as rumored. I thought it was just horror stories told by ableist people. But... today I listened to a friend of mine talk about their experiences in multiple different psychiatric hospitals, all of which essentially forced them and their parents to PAY for them to be kidnapped and tortured. I'm thoroughly disgusted with the world right now. I feel so terrible for them, and for anybody else who has gone through the system and come out the other end worse than they were when they went in. My goals as a future psychologist are not to abuse and neglect my patients, but to research and help them to publish my findings and make mental health aid a better world. The friend in question is currently trying to sue the hospitals and I'm standing behind them in every way possible. I'm just... appalled.

#tw ableism #tw abuse #abuse mention #torture mention #torture tw #torture cw #rant #psychology #psychiatry

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langernameohnebedeutung · 10 months

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"The old McDonough family estate. So many childhood memories. After you would beat me, or humiliate me, or psychologically torture Mom, I'd visit this well - I'd toss a penny inside and wish you'd drop dead."

#I'm finally writing my big well-symbolism essay that I've been threatening to write for like year or so #and I swear I'm getting more annoying by the word #izombie #blaine debeers #cw abuse mention #fandom #one thing I changed my stance on is the 'psychological torture Mom' part bc I always thought he specifically meant emotional abuse #but he very specifically named that when talking about his own experienced '(humiliate me) - so the fact that he uses this term for what #Angus did to his mother actually make think whether other factors were at play on top of that (like gaslighting)#bc if Angus drove her insane deliberately...I feel like that adds some undertones the whole story #(especially bc every single person in that family ends up losing their mind)

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dreamsofspike-blog · 5 months

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My Whumpcember Fic!

I'll be filling the prompts for this Whumpcember in a fandom I haven't ventured into before now - The Boys! Enjoy and let me know what you think if you give it a shot. :)

#homelander #annie january #queen maeve #captivity #torture #homelander whump #kidnapping cw #tw abuse #psychological abuse #stockholm syndrome #non con #whumpcember2023 day 1 #whumpcember2023 prompt list #whumpcember2023

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battyrowan · 1 year

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Possession

This was originally for jjkinktober 2021 for the prompt possession!

cw: noncon, A/B/O, vaguely historical, Stockholm syndrome, captivity, ownership, forced marriage, emotional abuse, psychological torture, mind breaking, mentions of cannibalism, exhibitionism and somno, collaring, leashing, blowjob, vaginal sex, heats, breeding/pregnancy, eventual love (if you can call it that), Yuuji has a pussy 😌🙏

Yuuji wasn’t naive. As an omega, he would eventually be selected to be wed and bred by an alpha. He didn’t expect it to be a king though.

Lord Ryomen Sukuna was a name everyone knew, no matter how far you travelled throughout Japan. There were thousands of rumours and very few of them were positive. It was said that the alpha had a harem of a hundred omegas, none of which were good enough to carry his offspring. When he was tired of them, the unfavourable omegas were sent to the kitchens to be made into a feast, all to satisfy their king one last time.

Yuuji didn’t believe the rumours but he couldn’t help but consider the possible truth behind them the moment Lord Ryoumen’s gaze fell on him for the first time. His eyes shone like rubies, cold and distant. His scent, like kindling fire, earth and cedar, stung Yuuji’s nostrils.

“Name,” the lord demanded, standing above Yuuji with his arms folded and tucked neatly in the sleeves of his ornate kimono. Part of him was in awe of how regal the alpha looked.

“I-Itadori Yuuji,” he supplied, voice quiet and wavering. “Not for much longer.”

In moments, a servant was on him, fastening a collar around Yuuji’s neck. To his horror, the suffocating collar came with a leash, which the servant dutifully handed to their lord.

“No wife of mine will hold a peasant name,” Sukuna said definitively. “You will be Ryoumen Yuuji.”

“W-What?” Yuuji stammered, suddenly dizzy and confused.

“Ensure the handler is paid handsomely,” Sukuna addressed the servant who bowed deeply in response. The king turned his attention back to the newly purchased omega, cold and unreadable. “Stand or I will drag you.”

Yuuji swallowed, feeling the leather press against his Adam’s apple. With the shaky legs of a newborn doe, he stood, only to be tugged forward abruptly. He nearly tripped but recovered to follow Sukuna, barely a metre behind him. He didn’t want to be dragged across the tatami.

Lord Ryoumen led him to what Yuuji could only assume to be the royal chamber. Sukuna firmly held on to his leash, assessing him from head to toe. “Undress.”

Yuuji stiffened, not expecting the order. He wanted to protest, but the fear lingering in his gut made him resist.

With sweaty palms and fumbling fingers, he disrobed, allowing his robes to pool to the floor. A crisp autumn breeze drifted in from the open doors to the private garden. He shivered and gooseflesh formed, but Yuuji couldn’t say if it was from the chill or Sukuna’s predatory gaze.

“You’re quite pleasing to the eye, for a mutt,” the king commented as he grazed his talons across Yuuji collarbone. Surprisingly, the lord left no markings in his wake and continued to softly explore Yuuji’s skin. Pecs, nipples, abs, biceps. Sukuna let out a hum of appreciation.

“You don’t smell like a plague rat either, not like other omegas.” Sukuna leaned in, pressing his nose just above the collar and inhaled while Yuuji did his best to hold his breath.

“Honey, lavender and bergamot, how sweet,” the king teased before licking over his pulse point.

“What are you going to do with me? Add me to your harem?” Yuuji finally snapped, unable to hold his tongue any longer. Regret and fear immediately weighed down his gut, making him flinch with anticipation of Sukuna’s ire.

The lord barked with laughter, leaving Yuuji baffled.

“My false reputation precedes me, I see,” Sukuna mused, trailing his claws gently, though dangerously, down the centre of Yuuji’s torso. “I assure you, there’s no harem. I have bedded many omegas, yes, but none have been so enticing to keep around.”

“Did you eat them?”

Lord Ryoumen let out another incredulous laugh. “Not in the cannibalistic sense, no.”

The pads of Sukuna’s fingers travelled lower and lower until they reached the mound of pink manicured hair. Yuuji gasped softly, uncertain if it was out of fear or arousal. “Yuuji.”

He shuddered at the sound of his given name on the king’s lips. “Yes, Lord Ryoumen?”

“Entertain me and behave. Do those things and I will make you my wife.”

Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes as Sukuna’s sharp fingers dipped between his folds. Yuuji was untouched, even by his own hand, and he didn’t know what to expect. When the pad of Sukuna’s finger brushed over the pink nub, Yuuji let out a sharp gasp. It felt good but… he also felt violated.

The alpha’s smell intensified, filling Yuuji’s lungs with the smoky forest-scented pheromones.

As embarrassed and reluctant as he felt in that moment, his instincts responded eagerly. When Sukuna pressed a finger inside, his cunt was already slick and preparing to be bred.

His conscious mind wanted Sukuna to stop, whereas his animal instincts just wanted more.

Sukuna retracted his fingers after only a few moments, catching Yuuji off guard. The alpha’s middle finger was coated in his slick. A flush rose to his cheeks when Sukuna brought the finger to his mouth, tasting him with a pleased hum, as though he were sampling a rich dessert.

“You taste as sweet as you smell,” Sukuna said with a wicked grin, licking his finger clean.

Without warning, the king tugged on his leash, escorting Yuuji to the large, plush futon.

“On your knees,” Sukuna commanded, gesturing to the foot of the bed.

Hesitantly, Yuuji complied. He may have been a virgin but he could guess what was coming next. Crimson eyes watched from above, looking at him expectantly. He took the hint and untied the sash holding Sukuna’s kimono closed, fumbling out of nervousness.

The animal instinct inside him salivated when he saw Sukuna’s cock. His lips parted in awe, shaken by the size and girth, uncertain how he would fit it in any cavity within his body.

His leash was pulled taut, forcing his mouth to be pressed flush against Sukuna’s length.

“Show me what you’re worth.”

A chill ran down Yuuji’s spine, identifying the underlying threat in Lord Ryoumen’s words. Keep him entertained or be disposed of. With a shaky breath and trembling lips, Yuuji shyly licked the tip of the king’s cock.

Another tug on the leash.

“I don’t have all day, brat,” Sukuna hissed, fisting Yuuji’s hair and shoving his face against his length. “Now open your mouth.”

Yuuji obeyed, opening up and allowing the tip to penetrate him. Shame filled his guts as Sukuna forced his way inside, causing him to choke.

With tears rolling down his cheeks, Yuuji forced himself to relax his jaw. Part of him wanted it to feel good for Sukuna, enough to keep him interested. Another part of him simply didn’t want to resist so it wouldn’t be any more painful than it needed to be.

“That’s a good little mutt,” Sukuna purred while pushing Yuuji’s head down further until the tip of his cock collided with the back of his throat. He coughed around the alpha, feeling sick and on the verge of puking, but he held it back out of stubbornness and willpower.

With tears, snot and saliva trailing down Yuuji’s face, he looked up at Sukuna with glassy eyes. Lord Ryoumen watched him, face twisted with sadistic pleasure and amusement, but there was something else there. Yuuji dared to think it was pride, and a dark part of him keened.

Coughs and other guttural noises sprung from Yuuji’s throat when Sukuna thrust into his mouth, pushing further and further until his nose met with the garden of pubic hair. His nose was pressed flush to Sukuna’s skin and his throat was full, making breathing a challenge. Consciousness was getting farther away as he sputtered around Sukuna’s cock. Pulling off wasn’t an option with the alpha’s hand firmly grasping his skull.

As darkness clouded his vision and his eyelids grew heavy from the lack of oxygen, Sukuna finally allowed him to breathe.

“Hm, your mouth takes my cock well enough,” the king commented, cradling Yuuji’s saliva-soaked jaw. Sukuna spoke as though he was assessing a pig for slaughter. “Let’s see how your cunt takes it. Roll over.”

Yuuji fought the urge to sob, worried about his burning throat. He rolled over like the well-behaved dog he needed to be to gain Sukuna’s favour. Being used purely for the lord’s pleasure made him feel humiliated, but his body betrayed him, tingling with excitement. His thighs were moist with slick, his cunt responding to Sukuna’s pheromones.

A firm hand gripped his hip painfully and he felt Sukuna shift closer to him. The breath was knocked out of him when the head of Sukuna’s cock breached his entrance, swallowed by Yuuji’s greedy hole.

Penetration stung, but it was pleasurable just as much as it was painful.

Tears and saliva soaked into the futon where his face was pressed down, forced to take the alpha’s cock as Sukuna pounded him. Yuuji’s entire body felt as though it was on fire with a litany of emotions: shame, arousal, fear, gratitude.

He did and didn’t want it simultaneously.

“What a good, obedient bitch you are,” Sukuna said, as if he were praising Yuuji. Maybe in the king’s mind he was. Maybe keeping Yuuji around to use him was a compliment.

Yuuji wept and clenched around Sukuna’s cock, the sounds of skin slapping together in lust feeling far away.

It was sudden and involuntary when his pussy convulsed with joy, causing his whole body to shudder with the orgasm rippling through him. Squirt slid down his thighs and lubricated Sukuna’s cock, making it easier for the alpha to sink inside Yuuji for his own gratification.

His pace was ruthless until Sukuna’s knot finally caught on the rim of Yuuji’s cunt, forcing him to remain nestled inside.

The alpha’s teeth found Yuuji’s shoulder, biting down hard enough to bleed and mark him—not as Sukuna’s mate but as a thing he owned. When he felt the alpha’s seed fill his pussy to the brim, Yuuji could only think one thing: ‘I am nothing but a possession. I belong to him now.’

—

Being Ryoumen Sukuna’s betrothed meant completing near-impossible tasks in order to spare his own life.

Yuuji suspected that, were he to prove his worth, he may see a more affectionate side of his husband-to-be. Although, the most likely reality was that Sukuna didn’t have a soft side to begin with.

Few liberties were afforded to him in the first weeks of captivity. Days and nights blurred together while he was tethered on a ten-foot chain within the royal chambers like a misbehaving hound. Most of the time, he was alone, aside from the servants tending to his basic needs—enough food and water to sustain him but not enough to satiate him.

When he did leave, it was on a leash at Sukuna’s behest. Lord Ryoumen only spent time with him when he wanted something, that something usually being sex. Yuuji was forced to warm his cock with a hole of his choosing, even in front of servants or during political affairs.

At night, he curled up and slept at the foot of the bed, even after Sukuna used him, conscious or not.

When his first heat came, he expected Sukuna to eagerly breed him. What he didn’t expect was to be sent to a small, windowless room akin to a cell to ride out his heat alone.

Yuuji was uncertain how many days it lasted. His body burned as he nested himself in a few thin, ratty blankets and wept. The world faded away during his timeless delirium, only to be disrupted when the door finally opened again.

When he saw Sukuna’s silhouette backlit in the threshold, he wordlessly reached out for his king, clenching and opening his hands repeatedly like a child.

“You did good, pup,” Sukuna praised him sweetly and, for once, his smile was absent of cruelty. He held Yuuji like something precious and carried him away to be bathed.

Yuuji realized in that moment that he had to suffer to become the perfect mate for his king. He was returned to the royal chamber without a leash because he earned it.

For the first time since arriving, Sukuna removed his collar and soothed the irritated skin beneath.

Yuuji knew that everything he had endured led to the moment Sukuna kissed him for the first time. His stomach coiled with heat and his heart skipped a beat when their lips met.

Melting against his alpha, Yuuji felt as though he found a home in Sukuna’s arms; he belonged there.

Yuuji loved him and Sukuna loved him back. He was certain of it. He had to be.

—

A sob tore through him when Sukuna marked him during their first heat together. He cried even harder when his alpha—his mate—allowed Yuuji to mark him in return.

He wanted to worship Sukuna.

His husband was so kind and gentle, even when Sukuna was bruising or scratching him from the ferocity of their mating.

“I love you,” Yuuji repeated religiously, breathless as he was bred and fucked into oblivion.

Sukuna didn’t need to say it back. Yuuji knew from the way his husband continued to scent and mark him until he was black and blue.

—

All it took to turn Sukuna into the doting mate Yuuji always wanted was a baby. The moment Lord Ryoumen learned his wife was pregnant, Yuuji felt accomplished.

He wasn’t an idiot. Mated or not, Yuuji knew that he was still just a possession for Sukuna to own. But, as his alpha kissed his pregnant belly and catered to his every whim, Yuuji felt happy and secure.

He was the only possession Sukuna would ever love.

—

END

#jjk #jjk fanfic #thread #sukuita #ryomen sukuna #itadori yuuji #yuji itadori #a/b/o #cw: noncon #cw: mind breaking #cw: psychological torture #forced marriage #collaring #leashing #cw: abuse #historical au #a/b/o au

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codenamehazard · 18 days

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.:Jabberwocky:.

Chapter 32: Jabberwocky

[TRIGGER WARNING: PSYCHOLOGICAL ABUSE, TORTURE AND TRAUMA]

Hey guys! Sorry I'm a bit late with this chapter! The character voice was giving me serious hell! (Writer's Block, my behated)

Though it's not surprising considering all that I have in store here! Good god, I had to fight to get the words on the document but boy howdy is it worth it!

I hope you've got some water as this is gonna be a doozy. I hope you like this chapter!

Without delay, let's jump in!

---

“No…”

My blood freezes in my veins and my heart races as I stare with wide eyes at the mirror behind me. I’m looking at it, I’m seeing it, but I don’t want to believe it. I refuse to believe it. I refuse to believe that the bastard is here in this hell-maze with me, that he’s here at all. I can deny it all I want, but the mocking smile in the mirror. I know what’s in front of me, replacing my reflection and confirming a fear that I always dread…

Kessler.

“Look what the rabbit dragged in.” The decrypted echo sneers as he begins to circle me in the mirrors that surround me, stepping in front of the other reflections as if they were spectators about to watch a fight. “The coward who denies the truth, even though it’s staring him right in the face.”

“So says the murderer that took everything from me just because he was too much of a fucking coward to face the Beast himself until it was too fucking late.” I snarl back at the twisted reflection, trying to use my rage and hatred to thaw the frozen blood and shake the fear away. “You took away everything I held dear, that we held dear; You killed Trish, you made Zeke betray me! You made my life fall to shambles and even fucking lied about what the Beast was actually doing, all for what?! All because you were too chickenshit to actually protect your family and fight the Beast.” The bastard fucking laughs at me like I was just a yapping ankle biter.

“Oh that is rich coming from you, Cole.” That fucking crone cackles with that sneer. “The one who kills for shits and giggles calling me a murderer. All the pain I caused was done for a purpose while you inflict pain because you are broken inside.” I can feel my blood seeth as he talks, energy gathering in my hand as I keep my eyes on Kessler. “Face the facts, Cole. I would say you’re no better than me, but I dare say you’re worse. All that I did was for a reason while you lash out like a pitiful, sniveling rabid dog who bites and scratches at all who get too close.” I could swear I can feel his stinking breath on my neck as he stops behind me.

“Try as you might, MacGrath… You will always end up alone and you will have no-one to blame but yourself. Because it will always be your fault.”

My rage flares red hot and an Alpha rocket rips from my hand towards the old fuck, but I damn near get blown to bits. In my fury I had forgotten the nature of the very place I’m in. The rocket just bounces off the mirror and I barely have enough time to get out of the way of a direct hit. I curse to myself as I feel the pain from the blast radius, why the fuck did I even think that was a good idea in the first place?! Kesslar cackles at me as I stagger to my feet.

“Still as predictable as ever, Cole!” The crone scoffs as he seems to grow bigger, like a looming shadow. “Lashing out when you know I’m right.” As much as my anger bubbles under my skin, the fear, it creeps back in. Feeling so small, being so helpless. There’s only one thing I can do. I turn and run down the closest hallway to get away from this specter and start looking for a way out.

I can hear the bastard laugh at me over the thumping of my boots and the rapid beating of my heart. Mocking and sadistic.

“There you go! Running away again like the cowering mutt you are! Running from the truth and running from responsibility when it comes to take its due! Breaking the promise you made to yourself so long ago!” I curl my lips at the barbing words, but I have to keep running. I can’t fight, not without obliterating myself in the process! “Maybe it’s for the best that Trish is dead. She isn’t here to see the whimpering coward the man she once loved has become!”

My rage claws inside my chest as I want to scream.

The mirrored halls, I swear they’re messing with my head. I think I could see things changing, I look at one shifting reflection, watching it change into a sight disturbing and familiar. It was myself from years long past, but something’s not right. It’s faded, black and white. Almost like I'm staring at a fading memory, but the eyes I can see, clear as day. They look tired, but also full of pure hatred.

Another reflection, this one more vivid and crisp, one I’m more familiar with. The reflection that greeted me every time I looked into glass windows or puddles back in Empire City. God, I looked like I was walking dead with how pale my skin was, and the black marks that decorated my body didn’t help either. I liked it that way, people left me alone, but now being on the receiving end of that malicious gaze and cruel smile? I’m having second thoughts.

“You!” I hear a new voice ring out as I run. It’s not Kessler’s but mine! It sounded clearer, less gravelly and tired. Oh please don’t tell me the other reflections can talk too! “I see you, running away, running from the truth! The truth that you’re just as responsible for the destruction of my life! Actually, more responsible!!” I growl at that lie. I didn’t do jackshit to destroy the life I once had, if anything, I was trying to get it back! The blame is Kessler’s and his alone.

“I can hear your thoughts, Cole!” The faded echo barks out with loathing and hate. “You weren’t trying to get life back on track, you were just acting on your own selfish impulses! If you had just sucked it up and been a half-way decent person, Trish would have loved you in her dying moments! But no, your own ego was more important than the woman you claimed to love so much!” I do my best to tune out the venom, but the words cut like knives as I feel a familiar pricking against my eyes. No! I can’t cry, not now! Not when Kessler’s chasing me.

As one voice is tuned out, another erupts in cruel, callous laughter… This voice, it sounds more like how my voice actually is.

“Oh how the mighty has fucking fallen, o’ so called “Demon of Empire City!”” I hear the doppelganger’s voice call out. “Once on top of the world sitting on a throne of scrap, now you’re nothing more than a sniveling weakling running around helpless.” Rage flares in my blood, but I have to keep moving. I can’t fight here, I have to get out! Get away!

“You sicken me. You know that, Cole?” The echo sneers. “You’re a failure. You failed to protect Empire City from the Beast, you were too weak. Running with your tail between your legs to New Marias. Then you bow the knee to the Beast himself just because of some pathetic notion of “the right thing” or some shit like that. Now look at you, you have the power of the Beast yet you’re running scared when you could simply blow this whole place to cinders.” I want to scream at the voice, tell him to shut up, blow up the mirror that the doppelganger hides in, but I know I have to keep going. Doesn’t make the words any less infuriating and painful.

“Why don't you unleash all that power, Cole?” The taunting continues. “Are you too scared? Are you not as powerful as you claim to be or…. Perhaps… Are you getting soft, you pathetic failure?” Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!!

I pick up the pace, my hands covering my ears to drown out the cruel words and venomous barbs as they start to swirl around in my head. Now I am being hunted by three, making my heart frantic. The fear and pain, it was like I was losing Trish with the magnitude of it all. I want to get out of this hell, even if it means disappearing! I just want it to stop!

I think I see something, but I refuse to look at the reflections. I think I hear something, but I refuse to uncover my ears. Enemies everywhere even though they wear my face. All thirsting for my blood and tears. Such things I refuse to give despite the stringing at my eyes. Soon my own voice joins the hellish cacophony, screaming at these demons as that is all I can do.

The more I yell, the more I run around practically blind and deaf, the more confused I get. At this point I’m not sure where I’m running. I can faintly hear laughter every time I clip myself on a corner, ram into a wall or run in circles. I’m lost, so hopelessly lost in my desperation for freedom. My voice is going hoarse from shouting and screaming. The idea of just going fucking nuclear and unleashing hell in the form of the Beast’s Rage is becoming more and more appealing, but with the nature of this hell, that would surely kill me in the process.

I stop at a dead end and fall to my knees, my eyes welling with tears that spill over as I rage inside this mirror nightmare. I just want it all to stop. I want this to be a night terror that I’ll wake up from but I know this is reality. My arms growing tired from holding my hands over my ears, they go slack. I am now exposed to the full brunt of the devils’ venom….

Wait… Who said that?

A voice I didn’t hear before screams with a similar force that I did, but the words they speak aren't venom and hate, but…. Instructions? Directions? I can’t tell at this moment, but it’s something that isn’t loathing and malice. At first I don’t believe these words, thinking them to be a trick or a trap, but with the hateful sounds closing in and with no other option… I follow the directions.

It’s then I see who the voice belongs to. Another faded and blurry reflection, but this one looks unfamiliar. It’s still me, but he shares my tanned skin, his scars barely visible, his shirt grey and white, Amp shining like silver and the sparks off of his hands a brilliant blue… This is what Kessler wanted me to be… A hero.

The blue sparked reflection continues to point and shout directions, seeming to be trying to help me, but why?! I make it no secret, I am not a good person. If this is the hero Kessler wanted, he should be hurling abuses at me just like the others. I’d even go as far as to say he’s the one with the most right to hate me as I am the reason he doesn’t exist. Yet here he is, trying to help me.

I open my mouth to question, but my blue twin snaps. “Not the time, Cole! They ain’t gonna stop for you to ask questions.” I get the message loud and clear and keep running.

I follow the instructions, focusing on that as it’s better than the miasma that I’m being subjected to. I have so many questions to ask, what is happening? Why is it happening? Why are you helping me? Just anything to make sense out of this fucking madhouse, but I keep moving, hoping that I’m not falling into another trap.

My heart sinks as I see that I’m at a dead end and I’m about to bolt, but I notice something… At the end of this hallway is another mirror, but with a very different reflection.

I cautiously walk towards it and squint my eyes, it looks… Fuzzy, almost like a photo that hasn’t been developed. On closer inspection, I can see some things that make it look more like a reflection of my current self, black pants with kneepads, my vest. Visible, yet blurry… The only thing I can see clearly are the eyes of this copy. They’re closed, as if sleeping. What could this mean?

As I look over this mirror, I notice something else. The cruelty of the three devils hunting me, it’s gone. This area is quiet, still and peaceful. Here with my heroic twin, but why is this so? At this point, I care little for the question as I slam my back onto a reflective wall and slide down into a sitting position, hands holding my head as my chest shudders and heave with tears I’m fighting back.

“Not giving up on me are you, Cole?” My blue reflection asks. I sniff a bit as I struggle and shake my head. “Nah…” I reply in a voice that’s more strained than I’d like. “I just….. Need a breather.” The white clad hero nods his head and simply sits in a way that mirrors mine, back to back. “Take your time, Cole. Catch your breath.”

This peace is strange, but compared to the hell I was subjected to? It’s a soothing balm on my mutilated soul and I let some of the tears flow freely. A small relief to keep the dam intact, for now at least.

When the peace has passed, the heroic MacGrath pipes up. “I know you have a lot of questions, but since it’s just us, best get them out of your system.” I turn my head and I can see the blurred reflection turn in kind. I start off with a simple “Why?”

“Why what?” My blue twin asks. “Just… Why? Why is this happening? Why am I being tortured? Why are you helping me?” I ask back in kind. The hero frowns and shakes his head. “As much as I want to answer the first two, all I can say is your guess is as good as mine as I have no clue either… But I can answer the last question. I’m helping you because I can’t stand this suffering.”

“But why?” I continue to question. “You out of all the reflections have the most reason to hate me. I’m everything you would stand opposed to, hell I’m the reason you don’t exist. Why help me when you could come after me as some sort of punishment?”

“And subject you to this hell?” He balks “I wouldn’t even wish this on Kessler, let alone myself. Good or evil.” His eyes stare off into whatever silvery void the mirrored world has. “Besides… I got to see where my path leads to. Got to see that even though I did everything right, it meant jackshit in the end.” He turns to glance at me again. “That all I did was pointless. Utterly pointless”

I’m about to ask him to elaborate, but he shakes his head. Something must have gone completely fubar if he doesn’t want to talk about it even if it’s to bitch and vent.

“So…. Where’s the exit out of this hellhole?” I ask, the heroic twin turns his head and points to the mirror at the end of the hallway. I turn to look at him like he’s crazy. “Um, that’s a wall.”

“It’s the way out.” He simply responds. “It’s the only way out. The reason there’s a wall is because you believe there’s a wall.” I shake my head at this crazy talk. “How do you know if that’s a wall or not?” I question the reflection. He looks at me. “You’re going to have to trust me and by extension, trust yourself.”

“I don’t do trust fall-type bullshit.” I point out bluntly. “You should know this as much as I do.”

“Why would I lie to the only one of any of us in this damn mirror hell that has a future at all?” My blue twin points out harshly. “It’s a cold hard fact, Cole. Out of all of us here, you’re the only one who has a chance at living.” I stand and he stands in kind; both of us staring at each-other, man-to-man.

“While you are right, you are everything that I stand against. You’re selfish, egotistical, ruthless, sadistic, irresponsible, downright dangerous and destructive to the point of senselssness, but you’re also fucking honest about it.” He points out. “Then there’s also the fact when it came time to choose between a gamble that if it fell short would leave everyone to suffer slow and agonizing deaths or go with John and the method that was proven to give humanity even the slightest sliver of a chance to come out the other side. You chose what you felt was right. It may not be what Kessler wanted and there may have been selfish motivations behind it, but you still made that choice.” I look at my twin puzzled, but he’s right… Right about everything, good and bad.

“This is your ticket not only to escape this hell, but to escape Kessler for good.” He continues. “That bastard already took two futures away from you, your future with Trish and my future. Don’t let him take this one away from you too.” His words ring out in my head like a gunshot as I look towards the blurry mirror. “I know it’s a leap of faith, but please take it! Take it and get the hell out of here! Live the best life you can… For the both of us… Please…” The last words fall like a pleading whisper. Looking into the same blue eyes we share, I can see it. The same eyes I have, the eyes of a broken man.

I stare at my good twin for a moment longer before I nod my head.

With that, I turn to face the blurred reflection. I step back a few paces and charge up a polarity wall to act as a battering ram, hoping that this won’t backfire. Unleashing all of my emotions in one, booming battle cry, I charge.

I swear I can hear the ghost of a whisper in my mind. A soft “thank you” as I make contact only to fall through thin air.

I roll through the tumble and onto my feet before looking around, panting hard. He was right… It wasn’t a wall, it was an illusion… Was that whole maze and the horrors within an illusion too??

Once I’m not disoriented as shit, I start to look around this new place. I see bleachers, a trapeze and a barrier… Am I in the center stage of this fucking circus? Before I can start to explore, I hear a familiar female voice ring out with an Irish accent.

“It’s about bloody time you showed up!!”

#infamous #infamous 2 #cole macgrath #demon of empire city #infamous: no man's land #xeno writes #CW: Psychological Trauma #CW: Psychological torture #tw: psychological abuse #cw: Psychological abuse #tw: psychological torture #tw: psychological trauma #He fell though the rabbit hole #Now this Alice must find his way through this hellish wonderland until he's free #I shall not continue with the tags because I know some people read these before reading the chapter.#All I can say is... It's no wonder the character voice was fighting me tooth and nail here.

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yall-hate-kids-tourney · 1 month

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Round 5 (main finals): Chara Dreemurr (Undertale) vs. Amane Momose (MILGRAM)

Propaganda below the cut

Chara Dreemurr (?):

They were constantly blamed for killing all of monster kind in the no mercy route, despite players choosing to go that route. People ignored that they sacrificed themselves to attempt to free the monsters from the underground.

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everyone wants to blame their own actions (genocide route) on chara, who is a literal child. i don’t know how to tell you this but you are the one playing the game. it’s about YOUR CHOICES. chara is there is punish you for that, you killed the only family that ever loved them! how could they not be upset at that! also if you don’t mind, here’s a good video essay on the subject

youtube

Amane Momose (12):

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So the audience replicates Amane’s abusers and repeats the cycle of abuse and that’s pretty shitty but it isn’t exactly “Fuck Em Kids” level.

And then Trial 2 happened. Cause Amane is bitter and angry and horrifically traumatized so she acts aggressive and hostile. Especially towards another prisoner.

Now, again, everyone here is a fucking murderer (of atleast could be constructed as one) These people being able to Harm is a core concept of this series.

In short: In a series full of Murderers I’m honestly a bit pissed that the 12 year old abuse victim is the one who’s treated like the guy from American Pyscho.

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whumpadventureprompts · 2 years

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Meat

Whumper has kept Whumpee and Caretaker imprisoned together on starvation rations, taking one or the other away and torturing them every day. One day, after Caretaker has been taken away, Whumpee gets a large meal, including meat. They eat desperately.

A couple of hours later, Whumper congratulates them on cleaning their plate and tells them the meat was cut off Caretaker.

(Of course, they can be lying)

#whump #prompt #whump prompt #torture #psychological torture #cw:torture #cw:imprisonment #cw: cannibalism

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galaxofmuses · 6 months

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Ya know the worst part of their EXE verse is that it takes place right after Sonic Forces and uhh...Eggman and his crew did some pretty messed up things to him and especially Infinite. To this day, Skyler really repressed those memories and he would just be upset every time he sees Infinite.

#:: headcanon ::#sonic's zones #implied torture cw #// he went through some psychological horror so what is he gonna do? REPRESS IT WITH A SMILE #// He is happy right??? RIGHT????

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ferinehuntressmoved · 6 months

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PREPPING THE SPECIAL TEA PARTY GUEST

Trigger Warnings: This is written with implied notes of cannibalism that something Jinx would do, as well as references of indirect visualizations of sexual harassment and invasion of privacy. Ultimately, this is a VERY DARK AND HORROR INDUCED THEME and twisted scene before the tea party, where Jinx takes out her anger on the person she believes is stealing her sister. It has graphic written displays of violence and mutilation as well as hallucinations and bodily autonomy stripped away.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Jinx is inspired and written based on @shimmerbeasts Jinx.

Caitlyn’s eyes struggled to open past the ache of irritation of the impact on her head. Disorientation blinded her vision as she shook her head to reset her mindset. Slowly, she lifted her head and pressed it against the back of the wall. The entire area felt humid and damp as she focused on piecing together what had happened and where she currently sat. Cerulean eyes opened up as she forced herself to push past the strain and catch her bearing. The sooner she could accomplish her focus, the better off she would be. Rusted old rubble covered the entire zone. The insufficient sliver of light that filtered through showed flakes of age over metal and dirt, and cobwebs in the corners of spaces. Despite decrepit age, not a sound came from the abandoned warehouse, adding an ominous, eerie silence. It was then she could smell of stagnation and mustiness of the residue dirt. The rubble against her back sent a chill down her spine as she lifted away. Damp coldness chilled her bare skin, registering her nudity.

The only sight of color was the pinkish purple veins weaving and twisting around the rubble. Small veins reflected the moonlight that filtered through the abandoned warehouse. Like an old wound that still lived, pulsing with a slight purple flash from time to time, something that reminded her of the growth upon Husk’s head. Living, thriving in this worn space as if nothing could kill the virus within its roots.

A groan left Caitlyn’s lips, still trying to gather her bearing, when the memory flashed through her mind. Purple eyes; demeaned and twisted a glimmer of white as fangs flashed in the mirror. She lunged for her door to get her weapon (placed in her bedroom) but then it filled with gas. Pungent and strong, bitter against her nose as she tried to cover it. Nothing kept the fumes from filling her senses and it caused her to stumble and pass out. The memory flashed through her memory and caused Caitlyn’s eyes to widen.

“Dammit,” Caitlyn whispered, as she tried to move her wrist to the side to get up. Moving her head from the wall, she looked down to see her wrist bound with rope. She hissed in displeasure and twisted her wrist, only to rub against the harsh, unyielding hemp rope. Another set coiled over her arms and around her waist, tight enough that she couldn’t pull them up, and any movement caused the thick rope to scrap against bare arms. Any means of escape required a tool as Caitlyn scanned her surroundings. “Shit,” she whispered as she noted the same wrap encircled her ankles, but enough that she wouldn’t be running soon. It took all her willpower to muster down the alarm as she tried to access a way to get free. She examined her surroundings, pulling her legs back, and looked to her side to find a jagged piece of metal. A glint of one caught her eye, and she leaned down to grab it with her hand. Careful movements allowed her to twist it around and cut through the thick rope.

Rapid eye movement continued to scan the room, sharp eagle vision trying to find the one who did this. Her hands worked as quickly as she could, though with her position it was hard to handle the metal against the rope. It didn’t stop her though, as she just steadily worked at trying to get out of the restrictive position. Despite the humidity, chills nipped at Caitlyn’s naked flesh, as she jerked at a sound. Her eyes focused on the distance. Stone bounced on the ground but it was the flash of purple that made her suddenly look up. The eerie tone echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls like an echo. Rumbling guttural echoes caused a rush of terror, like a piece of meat being stalked by whatever demon lurked in the shadows. The vocalizations caused a whimper to leave Caitlyn’s lips involuntarily as she tried to cut faster and deeper into the rope. A sudden flash of blue and ripped the metal shard from her hand and thrown to the side. “Like I let you go that easy, enforcer,” the dark tone left the lips of the woman before her. “Jinx!” Caitlyn nearly shrieked, as she tried to push herself up against the way as sharp nails gripped at her jaw before slamming her into the ground. “We’ve barely even begun to have any fun,” The words echoed through Caitlyn’s ears though her head throbbed from the impact to the ground. The voice was distant at first, but then a steel toe boot met contact with her abdomen.

It caused all the air to rush out of her lungs and nausea hit her as quickly as her steel-toed boot did. Adrenaline flooded her system and cut off her ability to process or think. She curled into a fetal position, gasping for air as the effects stunned her for the second. The bitter taste of bile flooded her mouth as she continued to struggle to breathe. Pain erupted through her body now that she could recognize it after being blinded by the impact. Gasps of breath turned into a cough as tears pricked at the corner of her eyes from the anguish of pain. “Shit,” she finally sputtered out, pulling the air into her lungs as she fought against the ropes.

Fingers threaded through her blue hair, streaks of silver pulled alongside as she forced her to look up at her captor and glared through her glassy eyes. “What do you want?” Caitlyn tried to show defiantly, but it came out choked through her pained abdomen.

“You, dead.” Bitter words left her lips as Jinx pulled harder. The follicles at the base of her skull stung as Caitlyn gritted her teeth together, trying not to cry out in pain. “Then get on with it!” Caitlyn demanded, because she knew if Jinx wanted her dead, she would have already been dead when she broke into her house. There was something more here, something worse. A part of Caitlyn didn’t want to know as she tried this shift closer toward Jinx’s hand that pulled roughly against her hair. The predator’s other hand grabbed her jaw, forcing Caitlyn to stare at her. Shimmer infused eyes, eyes Caitlyn had never seen on Jinx before till now, bore into her with deadly intent. “And make it easy on you? No… you suffer first,” Nail-like claws bit against Caitlyn’s jaw, digging into her flesh and threatening to cut through. “I would cut up that face of yours, but I need Vi to see it. I need her to know who you are, so for now, you get to keep it; because I say so,” Jinx sneered, before letting go of Caitlyn’s hair and face as the she-wolf straddled Caitlyn’s stomach and her hand wrapped around her throat. Caitlyn’s eyes were full of fear now, as she shook her head to move away from the hands latching around her throat like a maw of teeth. Her feet kicked out as Jinx flipped a knife in her hand.

An earth shattering scream ripped through Caitlyn’s lips as the blade hit the wound on her left thigh. It cut through flesh and muscle and tissue, making the wound worse than it already had been from the bridge incident weeks ago. Tears streamed down her face as a fog passed over her eyes again, struggling desperately to pull on her hands to push Jinx away. Yet past the fog, she could see Jinx with a demented fanged grin staring down at her. Her body leaned closer, too close for Caitlyn’s liking as she tried to pull away from her. A bristled tongue brushed against her jaw and up her cheek to lick at her tears that fell from her eyes. Delight played in the loose cannon’s eyes, which caused Caitlyn to fight once more. “GET OFF!” she shouted, screaming past the pain as Jinx twisted the bloody blade in her hand. “I wonder what you taste like, hmm, Cupcake?”

The word instantly caused Caitlyn to freeze, as her breathing became rapid against her chest. Like a rapid river rushing through the ravine, all she could do was try to process what she just said. “How…” Jinx’s hands tightened around Caitlyn’s throat to silence her and cut off her air supply. “Like I didn’t know the infection you bled into my sister! She can only give nicknames to me!” The threat of no oxygen thumped against her might when Jinx let her throat go and she gasped back air once more. “But I’ll show Vi. I’ll show her just what kind of infection you are. You play the Zaunite, try to look like a Zaunite, but you’re nothing more than a Piltie, invading everything you touch. No, I’ll show her,” Jinx grinned, as she stood up and stared down at Caitlyn, eyes flicking over her entire body like a piece of meat. Caitlyn tried to cover herself up, feeling exposed and humiliated in her position as she struggled with the rope that now rubbed at her flesh and turned her ivory skin red from all the movements.

“Leave Vi out of this! This is between you and me!” Caitlyn shouted, her defiance kicking in. Instinct took over to protect Vi. It’s not like she knew she was here. Vi had left her on the steps of the council hall. The echoing memory still pained her; she knew Vi didn’t mean what she said. Everything pointed to Vi closing up, pushing Caitlyn away. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. She had done it several times before, and the draw of the hood was a protective measure. Whatever Vi was feeling, it twisted and turned and caused Vi to push everyone away. Bearing this weight on her own. Still, Caitlyn didn’t blame her; she had plans to go after her this morning if not for Jinx’s interference. But then the prickling fear ebbed away at her heart: it wasn’t just Vi who wouldn’t know. It included Jayce, her mother and father, and Viktor. None of them even knew she was missing! The sudden realization that no one would look for her sent dread coursing through her veins and the truth through her mind. She was going to die here.

Caitlyn’s outburst only angered the blue-braided Zaunite, as Jinx struck out with a hand and backhanded Caitlyn across the cheek. It left a pain echoing against her skin as she reached up and grabbed Caitlyn’s hair and dragged her against the ground. “I should sow that mouth shut, I know how to,” Darken words left Caitlyn pulling on her wrist again. “Ah! OW!” cries of pain ripped through her lips as she kicked out her feet. Uselessly, she tried to lift her head up to Jinx’s hand as her hair was like a rope to drag Caitlyn across the ground. She easily wrangled the woman as rock and stone scraped and cut against Caitlyn’s backside, leaving little tiny knicks with barely a droplet of blood sprouting from the spots.

“What does my sister see in you anyway, you’re too soft and fleshy,” Jinx sounded as if she talked more to herself then to Caitlyn despite her presence being there as Jinx dropped her back down to the ground and a grunt left her lips. The pain of her thigh dulled enough as Jinx put her foot on Caitlyn’s hip and shoved her over to lie on her stomach. That caused Caitlyn’s arms to be pinned down against the ground as she kicked her feet like a flopping fish. She growled angrily, trying to push back as Jinx dropped unceremoniously on top of her back, causing her spine to crack a few times and knocked the air from her lungs. She crossed her legs and pressed a hand against her shoulder blades, forcing Caitlyn down further as she twisted her head to look over her shoulder. “Dammit Jinx! Get the fuck off of me!” Irrational anger gripped the former-enforcer, her adrenaline pumping faster causing a mass production of hormones that steamed all in her anger and covering up the fear she experienced. Fingers brushed over her shoulders, playing with the iridescent blue feathers. And then suddenly Jinx pulled on out. Caitlyn flinched, not out of pain but discomfort as the sensation coursed through the nerves. A giggle echoed and then another pluck came, and then soon one after another. Dread coursed through Caitlyn’s chest, burning against her shoulders as her feathers spread and fluff up, matching the fear and trying to look bigger than she was. Each pull of a feather made her twist and turn, as she tightened her eyes shut, trying not to think about what Jinx was doing; taking away the physical protection to herself but also destroying a part of herself. A hiss left her lips when claws gripped into the back of her neck and Jinx slammed her harder against the ground.

“Stop trying to sound like a Zaunite! You're not one, you fucking Piltie. You don’t even deserve these feathers. Trying to look like an animal, trying to mimic our ways. Liar.” The words dripped like poison, stinging at Caitlyn’s chest as she suddenly felt a flood of discomfort as Jinx’s hand wrapped around a bundle of feathers and ripped them out. Her nails scraped against sensitive flesh underneath the feathers as she kicked her feet. No one had not touched the burns in months; the feathers had done their job to protect her from any kind of sensation. Another giggle left Jinx’s lips as she leaned downward to whisper into Caitlyn’s ear. “Oh, did that hurt little birdie?” The question came as Caitlyn bared her teeth, her eyes flicking over her shoulder with no words. Nails still pressed against her neck, keeping her down against the ground as claws dragged against her burns and Caitlyn shuddered, a cry of anguish. “Well, first we have to clip the wings, and then…” Jinx’s voice went quiet as Caitlyn struggled when Jinx pressed a finger against her shoulder blade.

“What is this?” The vitriolic tone cracked as Caitlyn tried to shift her shoulder upward, refusing to answer. “ANSWER ME!” Jinx shoulder as she pulled Caitlyn up by the neck and slammed her head down against the ground. Spotted fluttered against her eyes, a slight abrasion against her temple as she growled before speaking. “A fucking tattoo,” Caitlyn demanded, as she could feel jinx’s nails tracing along the violet flowers, but it wasn’t a delighted sensation. The claws dragged over her skin, digging in harder before Jinx let out a yell and claws ripped through Caitlyn’s flesh around her tattoo. Caitlyn screamed, kicking at her feet as she heard the wild woman screaming.

“YOU MARK YOUR SKIN WITH MY SISTER’S NAME! YOU THINK YOU CAN CLAIM HER BY PUTTING A TATTOO ON YOUR BACK! WELL, I’LL SHOW YOU!” The sudden volatile wave of emotions slammed into Caitlyn’s chest. It burned, like fire and ice combined, charring at the edges of her chest, freezing her fingertips. She couldn’t properly block any emotions, and the sudden wave of madness and frenzy overtook her mental capacity as she shook her head. “IT’S NOT ABOUT VI!” Caitlyn shouted, because it was the truth. Her tattoo had been personal, involving the flowers of violets within her garden. A place of safety and comfort.

Now her tattoo enraged the shimmer monster on her back.

“LIAR!” Nails dug into Caitlyn’s tattoo, through her flesh and skin, as Jinx kept them there. “Shut up!” Jinx shouted, as Caitlyn looked confused at first, the way the woman shouted. Jinx wasn’t looking down at her, but this time in the corner. “I’m busy! No, No I’m not going to kill her! Not yet anyway! Would you shut it!” Her nails dug deeper into Caitlyn’s shoulder as she shuddered with a cry of torment. Blood seeped from the wound, scatter across her back like a branching stream of rivers, twisting as they slid down her skin.

The nails pulled from her shoulder and from her neck as the weight left her body. Freedom. Caitlyn turned past the spots of her eyes, seeing Jinx walking away muttering to herself. Immediately, Caitlyn twisted back around and wiggled like a worm, trying to move toward anything she could use to break free. Her bottom lip pressed between her teeth, biting down so hard she might draw blood. The movement of her body rolling left-to-right put pressure on her thigh and it burned like a fire. Still, she persisted, refusing to just lay here and expose her belly to let Jinx murder her. Even if Caitlyn felt the impending doom of death on her doorstep, she wouldn’t give up. The infinitesimal ability Caitlyn had to stop Jinx didn’t matter; she would make her work for this.

Shards of glass glistened against the light that filtered through from the candles that were lit. She could see a small glimmer of light near a doorway, the sunlight from outside. A hint of freedom that Caitlyn desperately yearned to reach. Each roll, each wiggle, yet still too far from the glass. She just needed to work a little harder, and…

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jinx laughed, as she reached down to grab Caitlyn’s ankles and whipped her around onto her back. “No no no, you sneaky little bitch,” Caitlyn yowled in anger as she kicked her feet against Jinx’s side and the Zaunite only seemed to revel in the antics of Caitlyn’s fight. The fear pulsated off of Caitlyn like perfume, and the loose cannon enjoyed every second of the struggle. “Get your spirit forsaken hands off of me NOW!” Each word constantly felt like the droning of a broken record. Caitlyn knew Jinx would not listen and yet she couldn’t do anything else but fight back with her words. Bloodshot eyes stared up in anger and fear at the woman who dragged her across the ground. Writhing like a worm on a hook, Caitlyn tried to resist, to pull away, but Jinx had the upper hand. A predator playing with her prey as she dropped Caitlyn’s legs.

Fingers grabbed Caitlyn’s shoulders and picked her up, her eyes round like a moon and unsure of what Jinx planned, when she twirled her around like a ballerina doll and shoved against a table. Her chest pressed down against the cold metal and Jinx’s body pressed flushed behind her. Hips against her rear, as Caitlyn shook her head. It was an invasion of her privacy, too close for comfort. Immediately Caitlyn tried to force herself up, to get away from the angle of the position, but Jinx grabbed her neck and shoved her back down against the table. “Please, keep fighting. It’ll only make the kill more delicious,” Jinx purred, leaning over as Caitlyn shuddered. “You fucking psychopath!!” Caitlyn snapped as she felt Jinx’s body pressed firmly against her clammy skin. Jinx’s teeth scraped against her ear, nipping roughly at it, and she heard a guttural purr. “I prefer... creative,” Jinx taunted, and then grabbed a leather strap. The weight disappeared for a moment, only to feel the pressure of a belt bound to her hips. The leather strap locked her hips into place, keeping her from moving off of the table. Her wrist pinned against her stomach left her helpless to reach the strap.

“What are you doing!?” Caitlyn questioned immediately, fear dripping from her tongue as she had no form of defense and no ability to stop Jinx at this moment. Another strap came up, this time pressing up against her neck and pulled tight, barely just enough to breathe without choking. “I’m working! Can’t have my masterpiece moving and ruin the artwork,” Jinx muttered as she pressed a hand against Caitlyn’s spine.

A scream echoed from Caitlyn’s lips as suddenly the blade bit into Caitlyn’s skin, pressing firmly as it sliced through her skin like butter. Her feet tried to kick, flailing underneath her with no luck to hinder the demonic woman as she began her process. “JINX!! DAMMIT!” Caitlyn screamed, shaking her chest, pulling at her hips, unable to get away from her trapped position on the table. All the while, she listened to Jinx humming as she worked. The way the blade moved caused spots to fill her eyes, sparkled dust like little floating firelights in her eyes. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, with screams of anguish at the blade didn’t stop. Worse of all was the etching turn of the blade, the framing of the monkey face against her shoulder blade as realization dawned on Caitlyn. “NO! NO!” she howled, kicking her feet harder as she shook her head. The rush of adrenaline twisted in Caitlyn’s stomach, feeling nauseous as the pain continued to rip against her skin, tearing up her ivory skin back. “Dammit, you moved! Stop moving or you’ll mess this up,” Jinx muttered in annoyance as Caitlyn nearly roared like a tiger.

“I WILL NOT!” Seconds blended into minutes, and minutes into an hour. The blade continued to slice across her skin, each twist cutting something new. Caitlyn had lost a sense of reality. Tremors echoed against Caitlyn’s body, unable to stop the natural reflexes against the physical assault on her back. Each time the blade cut in, a shuddering cry of pain echoed her lip, but her throat grew sore from the screaming that it turned into sudden shrieks or shrills that died down into sobs. Sweat drenched her skin, as the warmth of blood pooled over her back, dripping down the sides of her waist and off her neck. She intimately could feel the contrast of warm vitality against her shivering, cold skin. Her vision clouded, hyperventilating breaths making it hard to catch her breath. Caitlyn wasn’t sure what Jinx wrote, but she had finished with her shoulder and had gone to write a series of words against her entire back. The spine had been the worse of the event. It felt like a constant burning fire that didn’t dull.

Tears stained her cheeks as she laid there weakly, unable to pass out. Spirits preserved, she wanted to pass out, Jinx could continue to mark up her back, but at least she would not be awake to feel it. Her eyes flicked up, noticing a brief glimmer in the distance. A hint of red, soft. Her eyes watched the way it twisted, forming the broad shoulders and the magenta hair that shined against the sun. The body twisted like a smoke before slowly showing a visage. Vi.

No, Caitlyn knew it wasn’t her, and yet, all she could do was a hesitant smile before collapsing into a puddle of tears again. “I can’t...” she whispered, as the brush of a callous hand touched her cheek. “Come on, Cupcake, don’t give up. You didn’t give up before, you can’t do so now,” Tender words, a person who believed in her, even when everyone else didn’t. “You aren’t here,” If Jinx heard her talking, she didn’t seem to care, only focused on her work at hand as Caitlyn shuddered and cried out again. “I’m here, right here,” Spirits, how Caitlyn wanted to believe that. She latched onto it, despite knowing she wasn’t truly there; it was the only strand of hope she had at the moment to keep from begging Jinx to stop. She didn’t want to give her that satisfaction, and she knew that Jinx wouldn’t stop, anyway. A soft whimsical song rang in her ears as Vi brushed her hand against Caitlyn’s cheek again, and she laid there on the table, unable to do much else but try to stay alive. Jinx’s bristled tongue once more dragged over her body. This time, Caitlyn shuddered from the exposed wound and pain as it dragged up her neck and up against her face. Her saliva clung to her skin, coated it and her hair clung to it. “Mhmm… Vi is right. You do taste sweet like a cupcake. Maybe a little bite..hmm not yet, not yet,” Jinx tormented and Caitlyn thought her heart nearly beat right out of her chest. If Jinx wanted to, she literally could take a bite right out of her and there was nothing she could do! The malicious demon of a woman sent shards of fear throughout her body, losing every hint of autonomy she had. Jinx controlled her movement, her placement. She tried to fight, but it was little more than a fight of a mouse against a cat.

Something soft brushed against her back, when she noticed Jinx laying her head down against the table, a smooth, pristine smile over her lips, shimmer infused eyes gleaming, almost glowing in the darker room. A shudder coursed over her back when she realized it was a feather over her back. Jinx pulled it down over her shoulder, using the blood like paint and using her body like a canvas. Caitlyn was too weak to resist. She wanted to fall asleep, but the atmosphere could not let her rest. Her nerves screamed with fury as Jinx played with her food. Jinx mutilated her back and now ridiculed her with playful glee. Blue hair clung to Caitlyn’s face, obscured her vision with only the smokey visual of Vi sitting on the table trying to block the view of Jinx.

“Now, let’s flip you over,” Jinx muttered, more to herself, as she reached over to pull off a strap around Caitlyn’s waist and the same with her head, but held her up and flipped her body. The sudden impact of her mutilated back hitting the table left out a rip of a roar from Caitlyn’s mouth, as she tried to arch her back only for the strap the press down hard against her hips. What else could she have planned? Caitlyn’s eyes struggled to focus, the pain harrowing that she saw shades of blurs between her eyelashes. But then Jinx shoved her head back down, and the strap wrapped over her neck again. “You sit here, don’t move now,” the giddiness lifted from her lips, as she jumped over the table and left the room. There was little more to do than wait as she tried to pull her head up, but her throat choked back a cough as she nearly cut off her air supply pushing against it. Spots filtered over her eyes as she leaned her head back, twisting it to the side.

Her head fell to the side, feeling the warmth of blood that was spilled on the table now, giving her hair an ombre look between blue and now a purplish red hue at the tips. Her bones cracked as she shifted just slightly, painful yet silent cries echoed her lips. Vi’s brilliant green eyes met hers again, as it was the only thing keeping her grounded and not completely dissociating from her body. “Vi, where did she go?” Caitlyn questioned, as the soft brush of Vi’s finger tickled her cheek. A flash back to the bridge, when that soft brush touched her face and the bittersweet memory of memorizing her touch. “I don’t know, but she is going to come back. I know it hurts, Cupcake; I know,” How Caitlyn needed Vi to be real; perhaps that’s why she could feel her touch, see her face. It was the only thing in pure focus around the blurred scenery of the cannery. “Focus on me, okay? Focus on your mind. Whatever happens, do not lose that. You have to keep fighting,” Caitlyn closed her eyes, just letting her drown in the gentle touch when the jump on the table caused Caitlyn to startled and jerk in the restraints. Jinx twisted around to straddle Caitlyn’s chest, sitting on top of her and twirling a circular metal object around her finger.

The pink hair hallucination was still there. Caitlyn could see her out of the corner of her eye. Her mind trying to get her to focus on anything other than the massive amount of pain her body was experiencing. “Open wide!” Jinx grinned, leaning down to force Caitlyn’s mouth open. She fruitlessly tried to turn her head, but Jinx’s fingers invasively slipped past her lips, stretching open her jaw and her teeth with inhuman strength. And that’s when the ring pressed into her mouth and behind her teeth. What twisted joke was this, Caitlyn thought. Already, tears were slipping down her cheeks as she tried to use her tongue to push it out of her mouth, but Jinx strapped it tightly around her mouth to force it open. Jinx put both of her hands down on either side of Caitlyn’s face, staring directly into her as she bared her teeth with a vicious smile. Her fingers reached over to some medieval looking device, as Caitlyn flicked her eyes to it and trying to figure out what she was planning. All her deductive skills knew enough; something she didn’t want to admit.

A second wind of fight crept over her body as she kicked her feet. That did nothing, as the metal device moved in and Caitlyn couldn’t close her mouth to stop it. The hand pressed up against her forehead as Jinx clamped it down roughly, but waited for a moment. Caitlyn’s wild, wide eyes stared at the demon, trying to prepare herself. Jinx didn’t do it quickly. She took her time. A slow, agonizing pull as Caitlyn wailed, struggling underneath the weight of the shimmer beast. The device twisted and turned, pulling the tooth with devious intent. And then... pop, the tooth snapped from its socket. Fog covered Caitlyn’s eyes. Tears dotted over her eyelashes as she struggled to focus on Jinx, who was twisting the device around to look at the bloody tooth. “Not as sharp as mine, but too sharp for a Piltie,” Jinx put it between her fingers and she popped the tooth into her mouth. Caitlyn visibly grimaced, unable to look away from the disaster before her. She struggled to contain the hyperventilation chest that causing her breathing to shallow. Worse was the taste of metallic blood that stained her tongue and dribbled down her own throat. “This is better than the hard candy! Janna, be damned, I could eat you up; teeth and all, lick your bones clean,” Jinx twisted the device in her hand, and moved in for the next tooth.

The screams echoed off of the walls, her voice imprinting against them as she fought hard to keep some kind of focus. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep fighting like this; something was bound to break. Caitlyn found between her shrieks was a hard beat tone of singing. The monster sang to her heart’s content, bouncing slightly on Caitlyn’s chest as she worked to pull each canine from her mouth. Blood coated her tongue full now, with her four canine teeth missing and dropped on the table. Caitlyn loses sense of time, as her headache throbbed against her skull. She could see Jinx’s lips moving, but Caitlyn couldn’t process what she said. Her eyes rolled back slightly against her head as she leaned her head to the side and gave way to nearly falling unconscious. She barely hung on, as the soft touch of hands stirred her dull blue eyes. “Come on, Caitlyn, come on. Focus on me right here. Cupcake!” The hallucination of Vi returned, though Caitlyn couldn’t move or speak. The blood dribbled down the corner of her mouth, as she involuntarily swallowed down the blood and saliva in her mouth again. “They need you, I need you. Okay? You know my stubborn ass, I get into any mess possible, and your parents need you. They need you, so please, do not give up? Janna preserved, I’ll even say thank you if you do so.” A pop sound came as Jinx ripped the ring from her mouth and she let out a shuddered whimper of pain, but relieved to shut her mouth again.

What time was it? How many minutes had passed? Or perhaps hours? Her mind dissociated with her body, fighting to preserve her mind past the excruciating anguish she suffered. Continuous shakes throbbed through her muscles and the unpleasant brush of the feather made her flinch each time. No physical fight came from Caitlyn and instead exhaustion burned her muscles. Eyes fluttered shut when the sting of a slap hit her cheek. “Don’t go to sleep yet, Kiramman. We haven’t even gotten to the best part!” Jinx chuckled as she bounced up, her revelry contrasting Caitlyn’s defeat. The sound of the buckles ripped off and Caitlyn’s body slid off the table and hit the floor. Jinx didn’t even try to catch her, instead watched with intense delight. The more Caitlyn suffered, the more she noticed Jinx’s elated behavior growing. A grunt of pain left her lips, unable to even scream out anymore as she laid down on the floor. Fight! Her mind whispered as Vi crouched down and reached over to grab her hand. “Fight, Cupcake,” Vi echoed the same words of her mind, as if working in tandem with her thoughts.

How?

“Oh!” Jinx gasped with delight, grabbing Caitlyn and shoving her into a chair. Caitlyn grunted as Jinx shoved the chair up against the table, forced to sit in front of the blood-stained table. “Now don’t try to run off now, I have something to deal with,” Jinx nearly bounced off, a playful cat delighting with the game as Caitlyn’s eyes turned to watch her leave. Her head slumped forward, hanging there as she stared at the ground. Her head rolled slightly to the side, the dazed fog filling her head again. “Hey, Cupcake, look at me,” the voice echoed as the soft touch of fingers brushed up against her cheek. Oh, she could feel that. It was so sweet, just like that brief moment on the bridge. She turned her head and pressed it up against her hand, so intricately feeling Vi’s hand as if she truly stood in front of her on the table.

“Don’t look at the tools, just look at me, Cupcake,” Vi’s voice wisps through the air. Her voice had a touch of warmth, like a tender, heated hearth warming her bedroom. Slowly, her eyes looked up, staring at Vi’s beautifully vivid green eyes, heavy painful breaths ripping through her lungs. “I’m so tired, Vi. I’m drained, and it’s so hard to fight. I don’t know if I have it in me anymore.” Caitlyn’s hoarse voice cracked as she leaned forward in the chair, laying her head down against Vi’s lap. Spirits, she was going insane. She truly lost her mind, feeling the warmth of Vi’s lap and the comfort swirl of arms around her shoulder. She could forget about the sheer pain on her spine, the blood tickling her skin while focusing on Vi. Whatever this was, this hallucination truly allowed her to dissociate from her pain.

“For now, rest, Cupcake. It’s just you and me, Jinx isn’t here,” Vi’s fingers brushed through her hair as Caitlyn sighed, turning her head as she smiled past her pain. Tear-stained cheeks, ombre blood-coated hair, but nothing could stop the little smile of feeling Vi’s hand brush through her hair. All logic pointed to this being just made up in her head, yet she couldn’t give a care in the world.

If this was how she was going to die, at least she could have this memory. “You know, I still remember the way you looked at me, back at the mansion. The way your hand brushed against my face, the comfort you extended. You didn’t have to,” the hallucination of Vi spoke, as Caitlyn spit out blood from her mouth, her gums aching horribly. “There is so much I didn’t get to tell you, Vi. I don’t know if I ever will get to,” Caitlyn whispered, taking slow breaths that stung her lungs. “Well, we have time now. So how about you tell me?” Vi offered, and Caitlyn hesitated in her thoughts.

“I know you aren’t my Vi,” she whispered and Vi let out a chuckle, lightly punching her shoulder,, which caused Caitlyn to chuckle. “Of course, I’m not, but I am the memory of your Vi. I am what you see, and you know me as I know you. That doesn’t make me any less Vi than the real one. You’re brilliant, Cupcake. Smart, resourceful, as clever as a fox and as free as a bird,” Caitlyn almost found it amusing that her hallucination was agreeing with her logic, that she wasn’t real. How weirdly comforting it felt, to know that her hallucination accepted this and yet still here.

A sigh left her lips as Caitlyn struggled with her arms and let out a little muddled cry. “Easy, Cupcake,” Vi whispered and placed a hand down to press against her hands. “I know you want free, but you need to conserve your energy. You aren’t going to break through those ropes, no matter how hard you try. We both know you just have to wait for the right opportunity. Don’t make the cuts worse than they are.” Why did her hallucination have to be right? Usually, Caitlyn tried to comfort Vi, make sure she didn’t react too harshly or let her impulsive nature get the best of her. Yet here, her hallucination took on her own natural thoughts in Vi’s voice.

Caitlyn struggled to maintain her emotions as she sniffled and the weight buried her underneath her fears. “I wish I could tell you how much I want to make your life better, how I want to see you smile. I just,” Caitlyn sobbed and lowered her head down onto her lap as Vi softened her voice with a little breath. “You know I didn’t mean what I said, I only wanted to protect you,” Fingers brushed through Caitlyn’s hair as she peered up at her.

“Don’t leave me?” Her voice barely a whisper as the sound of steps caught her ears. “I am going nowhere, Cupcake. You aren’t alone.” Vi’s hand brushed against her face as fear gripped Caitlyn’s chest again but stared at Vi when a hand pressed against her back and dragged down her skin. A bitter scream ripped from her lungs as the nails dug against flesh and blood. Her entire body shook as Jinx pulled her fingers into her lips, popping them in her mouth as she set the cupcake down on the table. That broke Caitlyn’s process of pain and her eyes went wide. Her mouth parted; unable to even say a word. “H.. h...�� Jinx climbed onto the table, as she had a twisted smirk upon her lips. The cupcake crusted along the edges, slightly burnt but still a sweet aroma from it. Her nose scrunched up as she tried to lean back. Her eyes flicked over briefly to the hallucination of Vi sitting on the also in front of the cupcake, glancing between Jinx and Caitlyn and giving a nod toward Caitlyn before turning back to Jinx.

Her vision blurred slightly as Caitlyn shook her head, struggling to maintain her presence as her body rippled with tremors, and Jinx bit the bottom of her lip. Jinx played with Caitlyn, but this time not her body; but her mind. She picked up the cupcake with soaked blood dripping down and splashing into the puddle below. Then she took the blood and brushed it all around the cupcake, letting it soak into the baked flour. Pain ripped through Caitlyn’s back as she immediately pulled away from the table, desperate only to cause Jinx to smirk.

“Ya know, I never really cared for the sweets, it would be so easy to just... smash it,” Jinx taunted, her nails tip-toeing toward the cupcake, and with one finger, hit it so it tip over and rolled around in the blood. “But why smash it when... I could delight in the juicy flavor it has,” Caitlyn’s heart stammered in her chest. She won’t do it, not yet. She said she had a plan, right? But... Caitlyn’s internal thoughts became disheveled and messy, trying to process the logical points from the insanity. Jinx, on the other hand, had a bright grin watching how frantically Caitlyn’s eyes flicked between the matching cupcake. The cake appeared with a fine vanilla flavor, a color near matching her skin tone, and a light blue frosting speckled with purple flakes. Jinx reached out and grabbed the cupcake with her hand, rolling it between her fingers. Caitlyn lost her ability to speak as if a noose tied itself around her throat.

Jinx dragged her tongue up over the flour, licking blood and batter together, and hummed softly before a guttural rumble escaped her throat. “Delicious.” Words left Jinx’s lips, and all Caitlyn could do was feel her bottom lip quiver in fear. Out of nowhere, Jinx lunged forward, and her hand wrapped around her throat, nails digging against Ivory’s skin and forcing her back against the chair. Caitlyn let out a roar of panic, kicking her legs as she pulled on her arms instinctively and Jinx leaned in closer, til their lips were barely inches apart and she angled her head to the left, dragging her tongue along her chin and up toward her mouth. Blood coated Caitlyn’s face, after losing her teeth and making a mess. “No!! Stop!!” Caitlyn shouted as she shook her head, unable to pull back as Jinx laughed maniacally and then took a massive bite out of the cupcake.

“Mhmm, disgustingly sweet, as you are,” Jinx muttered between chewing the food and then the other half of the cupcake. She smashed into the pool of blood. “Janna, I can’t get enough of your taste, it’s so spirit damn addicting,” She taunted, and leaned over, once more opening her mouth and biting down on Caitlyn’s neck as she kicked her feet, panic overwhelming her and the stench of fear filtering through the air. Jinx bit down just enough to leave holes against her neck, her fangs ripping through the flesh, and then she licked at the blood pooling from the holes. “Just one more hour, and then we can feast, and just like that cupcake...” Jinx angled her mouth up and whispered into Caitlyn’s ear.

“You will be the main course we eat off the ground,” Caitlyn tried to twist away, tears streaking her face, mixing against dirt and blood as she shook her head. “Fuck you!” Caitlyn choked back the words when Jinx’s hand swiped out and hit her cheek. It caused her to get dizzy and lose focus, slumping forward between consciousness again. Hands pressed against her shoulders, but not the infernal touch of the criminal before her. “Keep fighting, Caitlyn, Keep fighting,” Vi pleaded, as she Caitlyn barely registered a brush of Vi’s cheek up against the side of her face. Like a tiger spurring her to react and Caitlyn struggled; but her vision blurred and lost focus from the compressing grip closing off her airway.

Then Jinx let go. A gasp of oxygen rushed into Caitlyn’s lips, barely able to hear Vi anymore.

“Vi,” Caitlyn’s voice cracked as Jinx hauled Caitlyn up and threw her over her shoulder. “Janna, I’m going to put a muzzle on you, shut that mouth up from saying her name,” Jinx hissed, her nails digging into Caitlyn’s legs as she weakly tried to pull away. “Fuck off,” her words spat, the tiny fight left as a little echoing voice encouraged her. “That’s it, Cupcake. Fight!” Her body convulsed as she was unceremoniously dropped into a wheelchair, as she cried in pain as her back pressed up against the metal. “I’m so tired of your words, and besides, you don’t look like an enforcer enough,” Jinx said, as she reached over to the table as Caitlyn turned her head to look over. Against it was clothing. An enforcer dress, her gloves and books, and just as Jinx declared, a muzzle.

“No, No!” Caitlyn tried to turn her head, to pull on her bloody wrist that was now raw from struggling the last few hours, but Jinx gave her no choice. A giddy laughter left the loose cannon as the muzzle pressed against her face as Caitlyn shook her head. “Muzzled like the mutt you are. That’s all enforcers are - mad dogs who need to be put down.” The strap went around her head, as Jinx pulled it tight, so tightly that it bit into her skin as she shook her head like a wild animal. “MFFH!” Caitlyn cried with tears she didn’t think she had left seeped from her eyes, staining her cheeks. The wild woman sat on Caitlyn’s bare lap as she grabbed her face and turned it left and right.

“You’re missing something…” She hummed as Caitlyn stared transfixed on the demon, her shimmer eyes glowing with excitement. Caitlyn noticed Jinx’s lips were still painted red from her own blood, and it dribbled down her chin from when she licked and tasted her pooled blood on her back as she picked up a marker and twisted it in her hand. She grabbed Caitlyn’s chin as she quivered, while the woman dragged the marker over the muzzle, pressing the paint up against her cheeks. She didn’t have to see the makeshift smile painted over her lips, like some twisted mannequin enjoying this behavior. Jinx threw the marker over her shoulder as she twisted Caitlyn’s head left and right. “I really don’t see what my sister sees in you. Ugh,” Jinx rolled her head, throwing Caitlyn’s head to the side as she climbed off of her and Caitlyn struggled. “Effh offh,” Caitlyn muttered, but her voice had been silence. She pulled on her wrist, the pressure of the muzzle more acute to her skin as her fingers flexed out, trying to claw at the mask. “Oh well, my sister will always choose me in the end. I know her. She won’t choose an enforcer. Why would she?” Jinx chatted to herself as she reached for the knife and Caitlyn panicked with what little energy she had left, but then Jinx put it back down.

Tightness wheeled in her chest, as she leaned her head forward, her hair cascading around her face to hide the fear as she silently sobbed. Jinx had ripped her autonomy from her grasp and she felt like an object at Jinx’s hand. Part of a twisted plan against Vi, and she didn’t even know what it was. And now she couldn’t even talk. The muzzle left her jaw clamped together, with only muffled tones like a whimpering animal. “It won’t be much longer,” Jinx grinned as she grabbed Caitlyn’s face, forcing her bloodshot eyes to look up at her. “Just know you will make a delicious feast for me and my sister. At least you’ll have some use. Can’t let good meat go to waste,” Jinx taunted, as Caitlyn’s eyes went wide at the flash of fangs as Jinx licked at her lips and her teeth. “Efhf!” Caitlyn tried to say something back, but she couldn’t, which left her terror the only thing to hang onto now. No words of defiance, no way to fight back. Sheer horror held Caitlyn now and Jinx reveled in this ultimate position.

Hands suddenly wrapped around Caitlyn’s throat as Caitlyn’s muffled scream echoed through the halls. “Why use gas when I can knock you out this way?” Jinx laughed maniacally as her fingers tightened around her throat, nails digging against her skin and pricking at her throat. Little droplets of blood seeped from her skin, but Caitlyn didn’t acknowledge that. Instead, it was the air that was choked from her throat. She pulled on her wrist, flexing her hands as she couldn’t breathe. The more she tried to, the tighter Jinx’s grip became. “I need to dress you and as much as I enjoy the fight, I have other party guests to invite!” The feline kept her bite tight with her hands, as Caitlyn’s eyes were wide in terror. No air went to her lungs as she saw sparkling spots again, filtering through her vision as she kicked her feet. The woman pushed down harder against her throat. A high-pitched giggle emitted through Jinx’s teeth. Caitlyn’s visions muddied as she grappled to get oxygen to her lungs. From the physical exhaustion of the torture to her mental capacity, it only took less than a minute to fall unconscious from the loss of oxygen and being choked by the she-wolf.

The last thing she remembered was her shimmer eyes, a demonic glint of satisfaction over the control she held, and the giggling laughter of a maniac that held her life in the balance.

#shimmerbeasts #our lives are intertangled in a complex game of intricacies — [ ship: caitlyn/jinx ] : shimmerbeasts #interactions — the answer is here ; staring me in the face .#cw: violence #cw: gore #cw: blood #cw: cannibalism #cw: physical torture #cw: psychological torture #cw: teeth pulling #cw: hallucinations #cw: humiliation #cw: harassment #[ panda speaks ] — drabbles.

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